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locations proposed for the Alliance and Imperium embassies tomorrow, and it is necessary for you to be dressed accordingly.”
    She made a face. “Fine, but I need my suit. I have to go and be Norz for a few hours today.”
    He gave her an amused look. “You are on your honeymoon.”
    “I might be. Norz isn’t.”
    “Commander Marx has told me that those are your orders.”
    “She isn’t my boss. She just runs the base. The Alliance Council is my boss, and if they don’t give me the day off, I don’t get one.”
    He gave her a serious look. “In that case, please get measured for your wardrobe while I make a call.”
    She made a face but then smiled at the seamstress and her assistant. “Where do you want me?”
    They quickly took the myriad measurements that they needed and showed her the designs that would be appropriate for the ambassador’s wife.
    The patterns weren’t too bad. They were feminine versions of Imbolt’s clothing. The skirt was the main difference.
    “It looks good. Thank you very much.”
    The Tival women smiled and nodded before leaving with nervous looks toward Imbolt’s desk where he was speaking softly in one of the Alliance languages.
    For the ninetieth time, Minerva bemoaned her lack of Alliance languages. She had Common for the Alliance and Imperium, but only the Terran languages after that. Her learning days had been swift when she got to Lunar Base, but all the languages she had had previously had been scrubbed from her mind.
    She put her hands on her towelled hips and looked at him. “Well, what is the verdict?”
    “They need confirmation of your new status from you.” He smiled and offered her the com.
    She looked down, shrugged and wandered around so that she was framed in the video communication. “Minerva Twill here, recruiter for the Alliance and Nyal Imperium. Citadel talent designation, Scatter Brain.”
    The Azon face on the other end of the call smiled. “Good day, Recruiter. I notice that you didn’t mention your marriage to the emissary.”
    “Oh. Right. Minerva Twill Kei Zanicon Mak Imbolt.” She winked. “It is a mouthful. I am still getting used to it.”
    The Azon blinked. “Right. Of course. Well, the emissary has informed us that you will no longer be available to execute your talent from Lunar Base. I regret that failure to execute your duties will result in the Alliance withdrawing the life support for your offspring.”
    Imbolt stood behind her and glowered. “And if you do, there are nine ships on the edge of Zanicon space that will die the moment that my child loses one drop of nutrient or one ounce of oxygen.”
    “Your child? I was given to understand that she was inseminated by a genetic match.”
    Minerva glowered. “It was, but he was the donor. We have since found a mutual attraction and urge to be parents to our child. If you kill my child, you kill his, and he and the black hole will make sure you regret it.”
    The Azon would have looked pale if its velvety skin could have drained of blood. As it was, he pardoned himself to consult.
    Minny looked to Imbolt. “You would kill nine ships for Alyla?”
    “Of course. She is part of you, and no one can injure any part of you and not feel my wrath.” He pressed his forehead to hers.
    The Azon came back online. “When can you resume your duties?”
    “First, I wish to know that whatever I decide, you will never threaten my child again.”
    “Agreed. I apologize. It was a foolish bluff on my part.”
    “Excellent. I quit. I will be focusing on my position at my husband’s side and preparing for my new role as a mother. The Terrans will have to deal with the normal recruiting staff. Norz is out of business.”
    The freedom that rushed through her was exhilarating. She didn’t have to split her mind and meet with strangers, disappointing some and facing death from others. It was going to be nice to simply live for herself for a change.
    Well, it was also going to be nice to meet her family